


Oh

by fanfics_await_you



Category: Rogue One: A Star Wars Story (2016), Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: F/M, Gender-Neutral Pronouns, Light Angst, M/M, Minor Injuries, Reader-Insert
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-16
Updated: 2017-05-16
Packaged: 2018-11-01 11:32:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,794
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10920960
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fanfics_await_you/pseuds/fanfics_await_you
Summary: You’re patched up by Cassian but afterwards everything kind of falls apart. In your defense, he really should’ve knocked.





	1. Chapter 1

“So _help me_ , Cassian Andor, if you poke me one more time, I’m going to break your ribs!”

“Did you know you’re kind of bitchy when you’re injured?”

The laughter that follows is short-lived for everyone involved after your attempt to punch his shoulder leaves you both in pain. While rubbing his arm dramatically, Cassian looks back at you and you quickly close your eyes. You clutch your ribs as if the blaster wound is the only thing causing you grief, but the dusting of red on your cheeks threatens to reveal you as a liar. He begins to fluster over you again, checking your bandages, and it’s all you can to do to resist leaning into Cassian’s hands.

—

Despite his stubbornness, your stomach drops every time you make him laugh. Despite his icy temper, watching him dance drunkenly with the other pilots feels something like homesickness. Despite his relentless honesty, his friendly hand on your shoulder only sparks a desire to learn the texture of his skin. Despite everything, you had somehow fallen for the _asshole_.

—

“Y/N. Hey! Are you alright?” Cassian says, his hands and words soft on your face.

You open your eyes. He is less than a foot away, thumbs resting against your cheekbones as he searches your eyes for pain. For a second, for the moment you allow yourself, you are breathless and the world is hanging on an edge. A gentle push, not even enough to disturb your ribs, would close the space and-

“I’m fine, Cassian. It’s just- you know- I just- it’s ok… Don’t worry. You patched me up pretty well… for a pilot.”

You manage a weary smile at the end, which he returns, but you can tell that it’s not reaching your eyes. You lightly grab his shoulder to help yourself up, using it as an excuse to make space and leave (although you’d also be lying if you said you didn’t just want to touch him as well). You pace around, trying to stretch yourself without breaking anything new, while Cassian climbs back down to the helm to check on Kay-Tuesso.

 

After awhile, you look down at your blood-spattered and sand-caked uniform to find that you are _audibly_ filthy. You had been able to hear a slight **crunch** for some time, but in your tired state it had taken you a couple minutes to realise why. Your uniform was beginning to _crust_. Rolling your eyes at your own obliviousness and the ridiculousness of the whole situation, you walk slowly to one of the storage units. The clothes there are coated in dust, but you decide that is preferable to becoming trapped in your own suit.  The opening of the hatch causes you to scramble to cover up before the call of Kay-Tuesso stops you.

“Are you dead yet?”

“Not yet, K2, though thanks for your concern.”

“Cassian made me check you were still breathing.”

“How unreasonable.”

“My sentiments exactly.”

“Sorry, I think I’m going to make it this time…. You don’t need to look quite so disappointed… Oh, and I’m changing, so can you two give me a minute?”

“No.”

“Thanks, buddy.”

The hatch clicks shut and you begin to cut/peel/break off your ruined clothes. Using the fresher ones as rags, you wipe the worst off your legs. Pulling on the one-piece flight suit you found, you unsuccessfully try to pull it up to your shoulders but the pain in your ribs brings tears to your eyes. So, instead you tie it at your waist and reason that there must an old jacket somewhere that you can use in lieu. You’re tentatively cleaning around the bandage on your ribs when the hinges of the hatch behind you creak.

“K2, I said give me a minu-“

Shit, _shit_ , **shit**.

It’s _Cassian_.

You’re standing there half covered by a flight suit (this is not the problem) and less than half covered by rather bloody underwear (this part is the problem). He’s just _standing_ there, halfway through the opening, with his mouth hanging slightly ajar. You’re too in shock to do anything but stutter and flush.

“I- my clothes- blood! There was- I- I told K2 to t-tell you. I- shit.”

Cassian doesn’t respond but he does start blushing. Not a cutesy red tinge that colours his cheeks. Nope, this starts vibrantly at his face before travelling to his ears, dipping down his neck, and it even caresses his collarbone. His eyes are darting, looking nowhere in particular, but they just keep landing on you.

“Y/N-“

It’s at this moment he moves and the hatch falls open with a loud ringing. It gives you both a small reality check.

“Oh my- I’m so sorry! K2 said- well, **fuck**! Never mind, I-“

“No, Cassian, I should hav-,” blinded by panic, you try to cover yourself with the flight suit.

The pain from the movement itself partnered with the sharpness of the action is dizzying. The room literally spins momentarily until your skin burning and a pair of hands holding you steady brings you back.

“Slow down, Y/N. I’ve got you.”


	2. Chapter 2

Cassian leads you the short distance back to a seat while you focus on breathing. You feel unbearably hot, not just from his hands on your shoulder and waist; the slight warmth welling in the bandage at your side is uncomfortable (to say the least). You slump on to the bench and lean your head against the metal wall behind you, trying to ground yourself.

“You should’ve just asked me, Y/N. There’s no need to do all this.”

Your heart skips a beat as you wrench your eyes open to look at Cassian. Your blood pressure drops almost immediately though as you realise he’s smiling and offering to clean up the blood.

“I-,” you say, your throat locking slightly, “I… I thought I could do it myself.”

He shakes his head lightly, sits down next you, and looks at the floor for a moment. Crimson still skirts the collar of his jacket and his cheeks are no less aflame than they were. Cassian turns the cloth over in his hands and then raises it to you in question. You nod a little, and he lifts your hand to begin.

Cassian is gentle. It surprises you, which you _do not_ appreciate because your mind is already a whirlwind and this small fact is threatening to be the straw that breaks the camel’s back. He steadily works up your arm as you silently watch through hooded eyelids. After he finishes, Cassian softly drapes your limb over his own shoulders so he can reach your left arm.

“Are you alright? You’re shaking.” he asks eventually.

“I got shot, Cassian. I’m a little worse for wear.”

At that, he laughs breathily and you’re forced to recognise how intimate the situation feels. Even when he was patching you up earlier, it had felt friendly and open (everyone being full clothed most likely helped). This was different and holy _shit_ , you were _so_ out of your depth.

 

After surviving the (all kinds of) painful ordeal of having your ribs cleaned, you’re forced into eye contact with him. Cassian pauses for a moment, as if he’s reassuring himself, and then raises the cloth to clean your cheeks. There is nowhere to look but him, and your heart is refusing to give you any kind of a break. Soon enough you notice a stray curl of dark hair curving out from behind his ear right next to your hand. Before you can think, you absentmindedly twist it around your fingers a few times. The hands near your face instantly stop their work. It takes a second for your mind to catch up with the transpiring events and when it has, all it does is wordlessly scream.

Fuck.

 **Fuck**.

Bit by bit, you move your gaze to meet Cassian’s. Something behind his eyes has changed. They’re not ‘dark’ or ‘hungry’ or anything as dramatic as that. It’s more like a realisation; more of a simple _oh_.

“Y/N…,” it’s an offer and a question that you are not allowing yourself to hear.

This is too much. This is too much. You don’t understand what’s happening here because it seems like he wants _you_ but this is not how it works for _you_. _You_ don’t get happy endings, and _this doesn’t make sense_. Some of your panic must have shown because Cassian jumps back like you’ve slapped him.

The world is capsizing and you’ve been left as the sole stationary point. Everything is whirling and you feel sick. You watch Cassian rush to leave, and know that you’ve ruined it. And so, with nothing to lose, you realise you’ll never forgive yourself if you don’t do something now.

“No, wait!”

Whether it’s the words themselves or the desperation that carries them, Cassian immediately stops. Everything just kinda hangs as you try to find the right words but they just escape you. So, in the end, you just say what’s been floating around your head for weeks.

“Cassian… Please.”

The standstill breaks apart like brittle bone.

He turns back, and you stand. Cassian’s hands find their places first, resting on the sides of your face. You in turn entangle your fingers in his hair as he kisses you and _Maker_ , it just feels _right_. You feel your head tilt back as he presses forward, always tentative and careful of the wound at your side. Your lips open for him and it feels like you’re dissolving or drowning or falling but it doesn’t matter because _you are kissing Cassian_. You drag your hands down his neck. A low moan escapes Cassian’s throat and it’s honestly enough to weaken your knees. You wrap your hands in his shirt and try to fill any space because you want to learn every curve that Cassian’s body has to offer and you’ve been dying to touch him and _taste_ him for _so long_.

“We’re entering Yavin 4 airspace, if anyone’s interested.”

With that, the spell is somewhat broken.

You rest your forehead against Cassian’s collarbone and laugh quietly as he cusses out K2, “Are you shitting me, K2?”

“For future situations, would you rather I open the cargo door and allow the whole base see your… copulation?”

“Kay-Tuesso, I swea-“

Whatever he had left to say is cut off as the hatch swings shut. You try to hold in your laughter, but it keeps leaking out in bursts like sunshine peaking through clouds. Looking at you, Cassian tries to muster some sobriety but he just can’t. He, Cassian Andor, had _kissed_ you and now here you were, laughing in his arms. If he was completely honest, in this moment, there was nothing more he would ask for.


End file.
